


Grounded

by redjaded (timeheist)



Series: The Redjay [9]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-10 03:12:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2008722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeheist/pseuds/redjaded
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the Doctor, Rory and Amy meet the Redjay for the (first) time, and a certain Time Lady has to deal with the aftermath of recent events and trying to mend a broken TARDIS/heart.</p>
<p>A series of chronological one-shots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Don't Think Now's The Best Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PhoenixDragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixDragon/gifts).
  * Inspired by [And They Shall Know Envy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/473503) by [PhoenixDragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixDragon/pseuds/PhoenixDragon). 



> This story takes place in Roda's 7th regeneration. Alexander 'the Seeker' Saxon belongs to elisi.

“You can’t just leave me here!”

“Well, Roda, it might just be a trap or maybe it’s a fixed point in time and space and I untie you here and whoops, there goes a minor moon off the coast of Roan come Thursday!”

“So that’s how it is? Me or the non-existent moon of Roan. I love you too.”

“Now Roda-“

“Don’t now Roda me, get me off this thing before a train comes!”

The Redjay hadn’t seen the Doctor since she’d last learned he was alive, surviving both the Time War and something that he wouldn’t tell her about. Roda hadn’t pushed it; if the Doctor didn’t – or couldn’t – talk about it then she wasn’t about to dredge up memories obviously better left unspoken. She’d given him his space after that. Roda herself had to come to terms with the fact that Gallifrey was gone and she’d lost – apparently – a year of her life, whereas she’d guessed the Doctor had some stuff to work through on his own. Once, while worrying herself to sleep about the other Time Lord she’d gone to speak to Jack and learned the Doctor had a new companion, redhead called Donna, and was doing just fine. And then Gallifrey had appeared in the sky, Roda had been unable to even contact the Doctor’s TARDIS (not that she’d tried that much to begin with, nerves getting the better of her as though she was a Time Tot all over again) and she’d flagged up the Shadow Proclamation and ran. The Doctor would survive, if he was involved. He always did. And apparently, it was just as well that he did.

He’d obviously regenerated, she could tell that as soon as she saw him. And recently, too; those little mannerisms he had suggested an exuberance that he wouldn’t have if he was already used to his body. Or perhaps that was just how this body was, now, his latest regeneration. Exuberant. Child-like. And travelling with a different companion, two of them in fact. Roda wondered briefly what had happened to the ‘Donna’ Jack had mentioned but really the details were neither here nor there because it was the Doctor, Amy and Rory who was standing in front of her – one with his jaw fallen open, one talking logic and one trying to boss the other two around – with the potential to get Roda out of this latest moment of deadly peril. Damn, now here she was talking like him – past him? – and rambling. Roda inwardly rolled her eyes and flexed her entire body against the ropes that tied her down once again, wriggling her bare feet as though the simple gesture would convince the Doctor to see sense. He wasn’t... Really going to leave her tied to plasma tracks, was he? That couldn’t be the kind of Time Lord he’d regenerated into...

“Doctor, shouldn’t we-?”

“Not now, Rory, thinking.”

Roda snorted. Yes, the Doctor had time to introduce his companions but not the time to get her out of harm’s way. Of course.

“But Doctor...!” Rory pouted, and Amy squeezed folded her arms tighter, taking a step closer to Rory. Obviously she took his side; Roda shone her a grateful smile. “She’s here, the train’s...” Rory glanced at a pocket watch whose hands, Roda swore (although it was hard to tell from an angle horizontally on the floor, with blood, dirt and woad blurred into one across her freckled face), were turning backwards, “Five minutes away,” Rory jerked his wrists incredulously, “And she’s gonna get flattened!”

“She’s right there you know!”

“Yes, Doctor, that’s the problem!”

The Doctor muttered absently, adjusting his red bow tie – bow tie? – and crouching down in front of Roda. A brief glance at the red feathers in her auburn hair brought a grin to his face before he whisked out his sonic, pointing it at her bonds with childish intrigue. He ignored Roda’s speech, his brow wrinkled as he pointed the screwdriver at Rory. “Keep an eye on her!”

“I’d almost think you didn’t trust me!” Roda dropped her head back with resignation and watched out of the corner of her eyes as the Doctor bounded backwards and the perky redhead followed him in a flash, regurgitating a string of suggestions and questions. The Doctor answered them all faster than Roda could follow, and the Time Lady was left staring at the other human – the mutual odd one out – and doing her best to shrug while wrapped in alien rope. “He always like this, in this regeneration?”

“Regeneration?” Rory tipped his head, the word unfamiliar, then wrinkled his nose and shrugged back, just as apologetically. He crouched down in front of the Redjay, who cringed slightly, never entirely comfortable around strangers. “Yeah, I guess he probably is.”

“Think he’s going to hurry up?”

“Probably he’ll swoop in at the last minute.” The human seemed to take it all in his stride, and put his hand bashfully on the Redjay’s wrist, posed for finding a pulse. “You need to calm down.”

“I’m perfectly calm! What are you, another doctor?”

Rory was deadpan. “Nurse, actually.”

“Fine.” Roda snorted, then took a deep breath to prove her point. The ropes were more claustrophobic than she was comfortable with. “But you’re doing it wrong. Binary respiratory system. Two hearts.”

“Wait, like the Doctor?” Rory blinked. “But I thought he was the-?“

“Second last. I think.” Roda nodded bleakly, then glanced at Rory’s watch as he frowned and tried to make sense of the pulse he was listening to with an even deeper frown on his face. “How long ‘til the train?”

“Minute and a half I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault.” Roda looked up, glancing at where the Doctor and Amy seemed to be engrossed in a heated argument that involved Amy brandishing a pointed shard of metal and the Doctor waving around a much blunter kettle. Apparently satisfied with her heart rate Rory looked over in the same direction.

“Oh god.”

“...What?”

“He’s tied the sonic screwdriver to a kettle.”

Roda blinked. “You’re kidding me.” She raised her voice, “Doctor, you’re kidding me! Can’t you just sonic the lock!?”

“The signal needs to be diffused, Roda, and this kettle is all I have so you might want to close your eyes...” The Doctor looked up suddenly, a loud, piercing whistle getting his attention. He turned his head back to Amy. “And come along, Pond!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming. Honestly, men!”

“Time Lords!”

Amy rolled her eyes and ran back to the mess as the Doctor crouched down in front of Roda and pointed the sonic kettle – for lack of a better term – straight at the locked knot. Rory jumped backwards in alarm, eyeing up the excited Amy with a frown of worry, and as the lock snapped on Roda’s ropes Amy quickly hacked the last of the rope away, until Roda could move her arms again. The Redjay hurriedly began trying to push the last of the rope from her legs, any words all four of them were trying to speak drowned out by the approaching train. Just as Rory and Amy covered their ears with their hands, eyes wide in horror, the Doctor leapt forward and grabbed both of Roda’s hands, yanking roughly and pulling her into a dual somersault and away from the train. It passed by, throwing up the terrain like a small explosion, and the two Time Lords stared at each other in disbelief before breaking down into laughter. Amy and Rory exchanged astonished looks while the Redjay entangled herself from her old friend, extending him a hand.

“This,” Roda threw a mild punch into the Doctor’s shoulder; he pouted and rubbed it pointedly, “Is for taking your time!”

“I did it, didn’t I?”

“And this,” Roda continued undeterred. When she raised her hands again the Doctor scowled, waggling his finger warningly, but Roda brushed the hand aside and pulled him into a tight hug. “Is for being here on time.” The Doctor spluttered, raising his eyebrows in Rory’s direction in a desperate question as he patted Roda’s shoulders awkwardly. Rory flapped his hands and the Doctor obediently pulled Roda back into the hug, as Amy laughed in relief and wrapped her arms around Rory’s stomach.

“Hate to break up the reunion Doc but we’ve still got the malmooth on our back.”

“Right, yes.” The Doctor cleared his throat. “Back to the TARDIS, Ponds!” Amy grasped Rory’s hand tightly and set off running in the direction they’d been headed and the Doctor turned back to the Redjay with a stern look on his face.

Roda frowned. “What?”

“What are you doing on Salen?”

A loud chittering and clicking interrupted Roda’s response, and she dashed to one side, throwing a torn quiver and a painted longbow back over her shoulder in one practiced move. “I’ll explain later. Come on!”

“Running, always running!”

The Doctor overtook the Redjay in a second. She laughed as she turned on her heel, bow primed against their yet unseen enemies. “Oh don’t pretend you don’t like it!”

 


	2. A Place to Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Time Lord without a TARDIS is a lost thing...

There was a cup of coffee, laden with sugar, sitting outside her bedroom door when Rodageitmososa got up for walk. She nearly fell into it, one foot stepping over before she even knew it was there, before the TARDIS was in her head with a gentle warning and a ‘hush now’ (she flinched, and then reminded herself that they weren’t its fault, her problems). There was no knowing if it had been left there by the Doctor or by the TARDIS itself, but it was warm to the touch, and fitted between both hands, and had cooled down enough that blowing on the surface was a reflex more than a necessity. She hummed gratefully, cradling the mug to her chest after one long draft, and set off down the corridor in search of ‘another mug in the library’. Or so the paper note underneath the mug said. The Time Lady paused, hand bunched into a fist between her hearts, and once she’d gathered her wits enough to take another step, did so. If the Doctor had left the message then he’d only find out she’d been crying whether she spoke to him or not. If it was the TARDIS, she already knew. Probably the Doctor did, too; he’d known her too long.  
It was silly, really what had her upset, but Roda had decided she was allowed to be ‘just Time Lord’ every once in a while. It was only natural that after years of loss and death and saying goodbye, someone was going to go that she just couldn’t handle. Her TARDIS was grounded, for the foreseeable future, and apparently after the loss of that stability the death of just a couple of humans – in comparison – that they hadn’t been able to help was too much. Then again, at least she knew how they died; with her TARDIS, she’d just woken up one morning in Torchwood custody, missing a year of her memories, the psychic link ragged and raw. At the time, neither Jack nor the Doctor had explained the amnesia, nor had an explanation for the damage to her TARDIS. She’d left in the middle of the night to try and get the old girl fixed, and been relieved to find the Doctor trusted her enough not to ask questions or try and find her, even when she’d turned on the news one morning, wallowing in self-pity, and seen Gallifrey in the sky, on the screen. She’d taken a couple of sleeping pills and gone back to bed, hoping that she was only going mad. Something to ask the Doctor, when she was better, if she ever saw him.  
And then the next time she’d seen him, of course, he’d regenerated. It was a year now; she was still grounded. She’d visited Jack, made up a story about her TARDIS parked on the other side of town so she could sneak up on him, and asked how everything was going on. The 456 she’d seen on the news, trapped in the twenty first century as she was, and she wanted to know how Jack was holding up as well as if he had news of the Doctor. Jack had told her about a Donna Noble that the Doctor was travelling with, and that Ianto was still in hospital but recovering; Jack had been on his way to visit when Roda dropped in. Gwen would be having a kid soon, too. It was nice. Things were going okay. With the kind of questions she wound up asking, and living in one stationary time and place… She felt very, very human. Which was why the second she’d found an alien craft in the city, she’d hitch-hiked aboard and worked her keep to the first interesting port that the merchant vessel made, which had happened to be Salen, on her own. And as luck would have it, who would be running around when she accidentally got herself arrested for her own bounty than the Doctor, and two new companions? She’d put up a brave face then, but once they’d gotten back to his TARDIS…  
Damn the Doctor, and damn him for picking up on things.  
By the time Roda had stopped thinking (arguably, too much) she was standing in the doorway to the library, her coffee gone. Or rather, empty; her knuckles had turned white, holding onto the handle. Roda ran the back of her hand across her face, and wiped the tears dry against the clothes she’d worn to bed, the same she’d spent the day in, caked in blood and dirt and blue paint. If the Doctor had seen her before she’d slept, he would have gone all big brotherly on her and told her off. That seemed to fit this face of his. Same for Rory, except he’d say it was unhygienic in his scared, kind sort of way, and for Amy, although Roda had never been the ‘girly’ sort. Not that she didn’t like the Doctor’s companions… He had a good eye for people, humans especially. Anyway, her clothes choice was hers. She pouted despite herself, leaning against the doorframe, and crouched down with the door as balance to drop her mug down to the floor.  
“Still leaving a mess in the TARDIS?”  
The Doctor wouldn’t usually catch her off guard like that, but it was a testament to how out of sorts Roda was that she’d not even seen him in the library even though she’d been expecting him. Grieving lowered her defences, when she was certain so many years as an outlaw should have made her stronger, and she furrowed her brow, gritting her teeth with frustration. The amnesia, the loss, the lack of being… She hated it all. She folded her arms tight across her chest, her face falling as she saw the steaming mug of coffee that sat beside the Doctor sitting, legs folded, with a book on top of his lap. The title was upside down, and she couldn’t quite make it out.  
“Still a housewife?”  
She both couldn’t help herself, and forced herself. The worried frown on the Doctor’s face went ignored as Roda tried to remain ‘normal’. He gave an exasperated sigh.  
“I’ve lately been told,” He leaned in as though telling a great story, and like anyone the Doctor spoke to Roda found herself leaning in to hear more, “I’m worse than everybody’s aunt.”  
“Not introducing yourself like that are you?”  
“Gallifrey, no.” The Doctor patted the side of his armchair – it was ludicrously large, Roda decided, and new, she noted after a moment – and shuffled up a little, offering Roda a place to sit. Well, she supposed his last regeneration hadn’t had much of a grasp of personal space as the last one either. She might as well take him up on the offer before her legs gave way from underneath her. “Now. Are you going to tell me what’s wrong or do I have to prove I’m worse than everybody’s aunt?”  
Her knees did give way then, half way to the armchair, and the Doctor had already jumped to his feet, to clumsily wrap her arm around his shoulder and lift him back up. Damn him. Where she would usually push away help Roda yielded instead, curling her head to nestle against the taller Time Lord’s chest and gripping his collar-bone as she muffled a sob into his bowtie. She didn’t cry, either, it just wasn’t ‘becoming’ of a Time Lady, as the Doctor she’d first met would have told her, while he himself was all teeth and hair and scarf. Not that Roda was the most ‘becoming’ person in the galaxy anyway, but that wasn’t the point. Her hand balled into a fist as the Doctor turned this way and that, apparently trying to decide what would be the best way to lower her down before coming to the conclusion that the sofa would be a better place. Roda was placed as ceremoniously as was possible for him at one end of the chair – her legs used less ceremoniously to clear off books – and the Doctor plonked – there was no other word – himself down at the other.  
Roda sniffed, and rubbed her hands over her eyes as she crumpled into the chair. “She’s – she’s-“  
Looking a little like he had never dealt with a crying girl before, the Doctor reached over to pat Roda gently on the shoulder. Though his manner was off, his words, and his eyes, spoke everything he didn’t know how to convey with touch. The Doctor knew loss.  
“I know.”  
“…Why?” Roda’s head dropped to her hands, choking her words. One hundred questions in one. Why do you know? Why didn’t you tell me? Help me? Why my TARDIS? Why me? Why can’t I fix her? Why did this happen? Why does it ever? ‘Why did you let it happen?’ slipped in too, with the memory loss hiding at the back of her thoughts, and the Doctor shook his head, giving a slight sigh. Roda wasn’t sure whether she was going to sob or going to shout at him. Her thoughts had been broken since she’d woken up in Torchwood. From the look on the Doctor’s face, he understood that. “I-“  
“Ssh.” Roda sniffed. “She’d not want you to cry.”  
“She’s a TARDIS, Doc-“  
“Exactly. Hardy things, TARDISes.” The Doctor smiled, putting his feet up into Roda’s lap and looking somewhat pleased with himself. Roda blinked, still glancing into her palms. “And she wouldn’t want you upset. And she’s still around, isn’t she.” He curled his hand into a fist, rapping Roda’s chest between her hearts. “Your imprimatur. You’re just grounded.” Roda gave him a look to suggest it was anything but a ‘just’ affair. “So’s she” Roda looked up, and found herself willing to ignore the glint in his eyes, the dampness and guilt. He was doing his best. “We’re just the two of us left. You, me, TARDIS, Amy, Rory, River, maybe Alex sometimes, and Jack, okay so maybe not two, but-“  
“…River?”  
“A friend.” Roda fancied the Doctor blushed, but it passed quickly. It made her smile, despite herself. “The point is, you need a place to stay, and I’m not putting you on the street. Figuratively. Unless you like streets.” Roda watched as the blush became a dark flicker, her eyes still flooded with tears, “I will protect you both.” Roda finally sobbed, dropping her head to her chest and wrapping her arms around her hearts.  
“I left-“  
“Nah. Jack found your motel. He’s keeping an eye on her.”  
Roda’s eyes narrowed, suspicion skirting around the edges of mild depression and recent relief. “You’ve been keeping tabs on me?”  
“I’ll explain later.” He spoke half to himself. Roda hardly heard him. The Doctor chewed at his lip for a second, before flailing his arms like a fledgling bird, making himself more comfortable half in Roda’s lap, and changing the subject. “Anyway! As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted,” Roda stuck out her tongue. “We can go pick your girl up as soon as you’ve had a good night’s sleep,” The Doctor bopped his friend on the nose, “And then we’ll see if two brains aren’t better than one getting her fixed up.”  
“You’d…” Roda swallowed. She didn’t need to finish the sentence. It was often that she tripped over her words with the Doctor, forgetting that they never needed to be said. The only living Time Lord she’d known longer than him was the Master and, well, she wasn’t about to come to him with her problems and he wasn’t about to offer help.  
“Of course. I said I was worse than everybody’s aunt, and everybody’s aunt meddles.” The Doctor raised his chin proudly. “So you, Ro-Ro, are going to chin up, enjoy the nice tea Sexy made for you, and stop feeling sorry for yourself.” Roda’s jaw dropped, and the Doctor couldn’t help but laugh. “Trust me.” He leaned forward, and patted her gently and kindly on the head. Roda closed her eyes, finally calmed. “I’m a Doctor.”


	3. The Gods Envy Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now here they were, just herself and the Doctor, up in the middle of night while the humans were sleeping and enjoying the raw, endless beauty of deep space that was nowhere near as empty as it looked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alexander 'the Seeker' Saxon (mentioned) belongs to elisi. The little 'sits inside your head' poem comes from the Big Finish audio 'Zagreus'. As for ∞th degree... don't pretend you'd know how to pronounce it!
> 
> Also, this is the chapter in particular dedicated to/inspired by PhoenixDragon.

"So what are we looking at?"

The Doctor rolled his eyes. Roda raised an eyebrow, leaning in with an exaggerated shrug, feigning complete ignorance. It was only a few seconds until the kicked puppy dog look on the Doctor's face made her relent and a grin broke out on a face that few grins had been breaking out on lately, her arm snaking around the Doctor's waist for balance.

"Sorry. Couldn't resist." The Doctor patted her head absently, glad that he'd made her smile. "How often do you hear that?"

The Doctor snorted. "Rather a lot." He beamed. “I love it when someone gets it.”

"I'm sure I'd feel the same." Roda took a reckless step forward, bare toes curling around the edge of the door just within the projected atmosphere of the Doctor's TARDIS. Her hearts ached, for just a second more, for the TARDIS she'd left back on Earth, broken as she felt. "If I had a TARDIS right now..."

"Now Roda-"

"Or picked up companions.”

She’d wondered if maybe she should, since the day that she’d met the Doctor, but Roda visited people instead of making them visit her. She didn’t see why they’d want to entertain them for even a few hours, let alone travel with her. What was she, outside of the Redjay, but Gallifrey’s cast away rubbish? Of course there were exceptions; the Doctor was welcome at any time, and Jack was invited with open arms, and if Robin Hood ever took her up on her offer of seeing her home then she’d break another timeline to show her hero the universe, but that was just her own selfishness. Maybe that was the Doctor too – falling in love, and selfishly stealing his finds away for himself. She couldn’t blame him.

“You and your strays, Doctor."

"I'll have you know," bristled the Doctor, apparently oblivious to Roda’s thoughts. He’d asked her if she travelled with anyone long ago, and hadn’t pushed her to expand on the answer beyond that which he could work out on his own. "They're real pedigrees! All of them."

"I wasn't arguing."

Roda paused, and would have hugged her arms around herself if one wasn't around the Doctor for balance. This wasn't a time for being maudlin. The Doctor was helping her get her TARDIS together and back in one piece from whoever had hurt the old girl, and it was only a matter of time until she was back in the Vortex. Ianto had willingly played around with paperwork - his favourite toy after Jack and a stopwatch - so that no one would wonder where she had disappeared off to. The Doctor had two new companions, Rory Williams and Amy Pond, and they were good, fun people that Roda had already stored away in a little cabinet in her head labelled 'friends'. They didn't understand quite what she was going through but Amy said she reckoned it was probably like not having her parents and Roda reckoned that was probably right enough.

And now here they were, just herself and the Doctor, up in the middle of night while the humans were sleeping and enjoying the raw, endless beauty of deep space that was nowhere near as empty as it looked. Roda always reckoned it was mad that some people looked out the doors of their TARDISes and saw only black. Not that she'd thought much of poetry since her sixth regeneration.

"Oi. You. No thinking." The Doctor waggled a finger half in front of Roda's face while still playing the role of complacent anchor. Deep space meant very different things to the both of them, but neither loved it any more than the other. "Just relax. You're not relaxing enough, Doctor's orders."

"Don't make me through an apple at you." The Doctor's head tilted just-a-little to one side. Roda gestured absently with her free hand, stretched out until she imagined she could feel a breeze outside. "An apple a day keeps the Doct-"

"You wouldn't dare. If you got rid of me who'd hold onto your arm?"

"The TARDIS wouldn't let me fall."

"Sexy, you mean." Roda blinked, and the Doctor beamed, "That's her name, Sexy."

Roda blinked once more, then raised an eyebrow, half turning in her precarious position to stare at the Doctor with an incredulous expression on her face. The Doctor smiled back, fondly, and her gaze softened. Honestly. The Doctor could do a butter-wouldn’t-melt face like no other. When he did, it was the only time Roda actually felt older than he was and not like the little sister. She would have thumped him but for the time being she couldn’t reach. A fact the Doctor had evidently worked out as he shuffled his feet on the TARDIS’ deckin.

“Are you sure she really wants to go by-“

“She named herself.” The Doctor turned up his jaw proudly, and Roda couldn’t help but laugh.

“Huh.” She hummed, closing her eyes for a few seconds and listening to the universe. “If mine’s named herself she never let me know. She’s always just been family. Too familiar to need a name.”

“Well my TARDIS,” As though she could hear herself being talked about the TARDIS’ lights dimmed on and off, and the brakes whirred cheerfully. “Developed a bit of an attitude a few weeks ago. And a bit of a body too.” The Doctor paused, thoughtfully. “But anyway. Your Sexy. You should ask her.”

“I will.” Roda swallowed, missing her TARDIS once more. She opened her eyes again, intent on getting lost in the present and letting the past and future bugger off and do what it liked for a couple of hours. Jack was keeping an eye on the old girl. She’d enjoy that. And the Doctor was keeping an eye on the Redjay, who was keeping an eye on the horizon. “When I’m done with the view.”

There was a long pause before the Doctor’s face wrinkled beside his eyes and he started to chuckle, a broad, child-like grin spreading from ear to ear. Roda made a startled noise, exaggerating a shrug by way of a demand for an explanation, and the Doctor wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and adjusted his bowtie as he fought to keep his amusement under check. This was good for both of them, Roda realised with a start, just being together and simply being…

“…I’m glad someone enjoys it the way I do.” The Doctor scowled as he tried to make sense of what he had to say. Too many words and not the right ones. They’d slipped back into Gallifreyan while on their own, and even that wasn’t enough. Eighty words for the colour black and nothing to describe what innocence came closest to. They came to the conclusion of how telling that was both at the same time. “Not innocently, not at all-“

“Thanks.”

“Oh shut up.” The Doctor snapped, still smiling. “Just… You’re a Time Lord.” Roda cleared her throat. “Lady. But you’re seeing it through a Time Lady’s eyes, without any want for destruction. It’s…” The Doctor hummed. “Nice.”

“Just nice?” Roda teased contentedly, stretching out her toes and her neck, flexing in the aether. Host to all the amazing people she had seen in the Vortex more than a thousand years ago and a million other things. “That’s the best word you can come up with.”

“I will drop you into space Rodageitmososa, don’t think I won’t, faster than you can count the ∞th degree of pi.”

“At least I’d have something of the ∞th degree to look at.”

“Tried infinity.” The Doctor’s voice was too calm, and caused Roda to go limp and pay a little more attention. His voice had almost taken on a growl, echoed by the TARDIS, and it took Roda only a matter of seconds to realise what memory had raised both of their hackles quite so swiftly. He Who Sits Inside Your Head, He Who Lives Among the Dead, and He Who Sees You In Your Bed And Eats You When You’re Sleeping... It scared her too, though not as much as it did or had the Doctor. Roda squeezed the arm that was looped around his comfortingly. “Not all it’s cracked up to be.”

“Well that was anti-time.”

The Doctor’s hearts seemed to stop for a second. “…You heard about that?”

Roda’s voice was soft, their roles as comforter and heartbroken reversed for the first time in too many days. The Doctor started to breathe again. “I felt it.”

“Ah. Well.” The Doctor cleared his throat, Roda blushed around the ears, and everything fell back into the here and now once more. “Come along, not-Pond. The Ponds’ll be up soon.”

“Just five more minutes.”

“Alright. Just five more minutes…”

The Doctor took a grip of Roda’s arm in both hands, unlooping it from his. Roda knew better than to think he would let her go. In an instant the Doctor had a sturdy grip with one hand and was standing near on his tiptoes, his faith in his love for his TARDIS. A fierce love he had for everyone he travelled with and every wonderful person he had ever shown this wonderful site to, and Roda was no exception in her own different way. He stretched out one hand for her to grab onto with a smile, letting himself laugh as she did. He’d played this game before. Listened to this song before. Guided this path before, lit this scene, and saw reason in this life. They both hand. And they would do so again and never grow tired of it.

“Take my hand.”


	4. Only Glitter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ridiculous filler fic.

“Glitter! In my TARDIS?!”

The Doctor’s jaw dropped. Roda pouted and tried very hard not to growl. Or laugh at the look of horror on the Doctor’s face. Although she wasn’t much amused with the state of affairs herself. And of course the mess was going to be hers to clean up. But it wasn’t her fault! Not... Exactly.

She ran her fingers over the cobalt blue dye on her arms. The same pattern of blue lines and circles – like some primitive attempt at Gallifreyan – continued up to her shoulders and over her face and even looped her ankles. Trying to look ashamed she glanced down at the floor of the Doctor’s TARDIS and ignored the light catching off the glitter stuck to her arms and cheek. The other Time Lord was stood with his eyes wide as discuses and his bowtie askew.

Roda didn’t blame him. She’d meant to paint her arms. Considering the fact she’d been painting them for over nine hundred years – as long as the Doctor had been alive – it made sense that she kept a spare tub of her blue paint in his TARDIS. It felt good to be travelling with him again, her best friend, even if it was while her own TARDIS recovered. He was the only Time Lord she'd dared to trust, since her trial. The thing was though frequently colouring her skin, although strange to have followed through so many of her regenerations also suggested that she’d be a little better at not making a mess.

Unfortunately when he’d destroyed his TARDIS during his latest regeneration it had been rebuilt somewhat taller than before. Or rather it had rebuilt itself as TARDISes did somewhat taller. Roda had to wonder given the circumstances if she’d managed to insult the symbiotic machine lately. When she'd stopped moping around and started to actually work on her fixing her own, it had been rather cold towards her. Since the jars of paint that had previously been on the bottom shelf of his kitchen had found themselves now on the top shelf Roda had had to take a chair over to the counter and then stand on it. At least – she reasoned – they hadn’t been smashed in the crash because she was running out of paint everywhere. She wouldn’t be able to buy some from her usual source without being arrested at least until that buzz died down a little.

It was the strangest disadvantage that her height had ever put her at by far. Cowering under Rassilon’s glares or needing a smaller bow just to be able to pull the string were disadvantages she had managed to work around. Maybe a bit of a sulk from time to time when the Doctor regenerated even taller than he’d been before but that was it. But while groping for the blue paint her hand had slipped and a box had tumbled. She’d feared that the floor would be stained blue and would take hours to clean but what had happened was far worse. A tin of half opened custard had spilt to one side and that would be easily mopped up. What annoyed her – and obviously the Doctor – was the glitter that had gone everywhere.

Honestly the Doctor was full of his tawdry quirks – his words – but she just couldn’t put a finger on who would keep half a tin of custard and a glass jar full of glitter in the same place. No wonder Amy and Rory were scared of the kitchen.

“It’s only glitter-“

“Only glitter!”

The Doctor stared aghast. He looked angry and then he convulsed into laughter at the sight of his friend. His gaze had finally turned on her. Covered in head to toe from the attempts to clean up the glitter with half of the blue paint that she’d been able to find at first sticking to the shine she looked like a disco ball. It was hard to stay mad at a disco ball on legs that was glaring at him reproachfully. Yes, she looked about ready to apologise profusely but he didn’t suppose she was taking kindly to her appearance. Which was funny, because Roda had never been the self-conscious type when you considered that even he had called her archaic when he’d first met her. Not that he’d been able to really talk about appearances while he’d been all big hair and big scarf.

“We’ll... Clean it up together.” He patted her awkwardly on the back and tried not to get himself covered in glitter. “Then crack open a bowl of fish custard and get you a bath.” Roda squeaked and they both blushed. The Doctor continued to brush her shoulders down absently. Far be it for him to comment. They were far too close friends for that. They didn’t need explanations just company. Roda was less of a loner than she tried to appear and the Doctor was sick of being the Lonely God himself. “A... Warm bath. Not necessarily at the same time as the custard.”

Roda rolled her eyes. Yes. The Doctor was the kind who would keep half a tin of custard and a glass jar full of glitter in the same place alright.


End file.
